World Disasters, Tragic Incidents, And Other Stuff- Hetalia
by WizardForever99
Summary: Hetalia One-Shots. Tragic Ones. Funny Ones. Weird Ones. They all have one thing in common! THEY'RE ALL AWESOME! ;D ENJOY ! Rated M for depressing chapters :3
1. 911- Hetalia

Alfred yawned, waking up, grabbing his glasses. Alfred yawned again, glancing at the time.  
9:15, America grinned, he was going to be late for the World Meeting, which was at 9:15, knowing it would tick off England.  
Jumping up, he got dressed, and headed out. He grinned up at the blue skies, the white clouds, the bright sun, a perfect day. But still, America couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. He sighed, shrugging it off before grinning, heading towards the building in New York City.  
America grinned, opening the door to the World Meeting, "O'HELLO, EVERYONE! THE HERO HAS ARRIVED!"  
Everyone looked at him, but then continued their chit-chat, and England muttered under his breath, "Bloody wanker's always late."  
"So," America continued, "Let's start this meeting!"  
And so the meeting continued, as normal as it would be, except when the clock striked a certain note, America fell silent. Getting up silently, he walked slowly towards the window. Everyone stopped talking, looking at America with certain unease and worry.  
 **BOOM!**  
America clutched his side, falling on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, "MAKE IT STOP! S-STOP!"  
"A-America? What's wrong?" England asked, notes of hysteria in his voice, for as much as he tried to deny it, he still cared for his former colony. He rushed towards him, with most of the countries following him, such as Japan, China, eccentric. America screamed, "N-NO!" He ran out of the building, running towards the Twin Towers. He tried to, at least.  
England held him back, "W-WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!"  
Canada shakily pointed at the window, and everyone headed towards it, gasping when they saw the sight.  
A plane crashed into the North Tower, and another one was heading towards the South Tower, and-  
 **BOOM!**  
"N-NO! WHY?!" America screamed, shaking, his crystal-blue eyes filled with tears. With everyone not focused on him, he ran towards the Twin Towers.  
Finally, the other nations realized he was gone, and ran to find him, the whole time yelling, "AMERICA!"  
At last, Japan found him, too close to the Twin Towers for his liking, and began running towards him,"AMERICA-SAN!"  
America stood, shaking, "Please, s-stop." His voice was a small whisper, and then the Twin Towers began falling down.  
"A-AMERICA-SAN!" Japan yelled, and attracted the attention of all the nations, and there were screams calling for America, especially from his close friends.  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, AMERICA?! I'LL LET YOU BE AWESOME! JUST GET OUT OF THE WAY!"  
"BLOODY HELL, AMERICA! PLEASE!"  
"AMERIQUE, MOVE!"  
America was crushed underneath the Twin Towers.  
~Two days Later~  
America blinked, opening his eyes to a white room. England was sitting on a chair to the side, frowning, _He's going to react to this, and bad._  
Suddenly his eyes widened, "P-Please, say it was a dream."  
England sighed, a few tears slipping from his eyes, failing at holding in his tears, "I'm sorry, America."  
That confirmed it for him, "PLEASE! SAY IT WASN'T REAL! MY PEOPLE! DEAD! MY TOWERS! DEAD!" Notes of hysteria made their way into America's voice.  
England grabbed America's hands, "It's okay, America."  
"NO! IT'S NOT! MY-"  
England cut him off, "I know, America, I know."  
And America let all his tears out, screaming about his people and how could he not have seen this. England sighed, his eyes pooling with tears, as he cared for his former colony.  
America paused, letting out a quiet whisper, "It's all my fault."

A/N- I just wanted to say that you can choose what England says next, and stuff like that, and I'm really sorry if this sucked, I tried, and I know America was OOC, but it was 9/11, and, yeah. SO, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, CAUSE I WANT TO KNOW. ONCE AGAIN, REALLY SORRY IF IT SUCKED.

Edit: ERMAGERD, I SUCKEDDDDDDDD, . I'M REALLY SORRY. BUT I'VE GOTTEN BETTER, PROMISE. READ THE OTHER CHAPTERS, MAYBEH? THANKS FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ THIS- ERM THAT'S WAY TOO CHEESY, XD, SO BAI~!


	2. 911 Redo

Beep! Beep!  
Alfred F. Jones' alarm blared, causing him to jump out of his super comfy bed reluctantly. 12:15 the clock said. Not literally, of course. Clocks can't talk, silly. Alfred, better known as America, grinned ear to ear. 'Awesome sauce! I'm gonna be late!'  
Now you might be confused to why someone would be happy about being late. But first of all, This is America, the nation of independent. He cherished his freedom a lot. Even if it made him seem annoying.  
He shrugged on a 'formal' outfit from his perspective. America's perspective of a formal outfit? Just a shirt and jeans.  
At least it wasn't a cowboy outfit, right?  
Yeah.  
Although America's day was off to a pretty good start, he couldn't shrug off the feeling that something was wrong.  
As he got out of his apartment in New York City, he grinned up at the Twin Towers. They were pretty much his pride and joy. He still couldn't shake off that feeling something would go wrong.  
"Naw..." America stated, beaming. "The skies are bright blue, the sun is golden, and the clouds are puffy." He happily walked into the World Summit Meeting, "Yo, ma homies."  
Everyone blinked, going from loud as hell to quiet as a mouse.  
Although, it makes no sense. Are mice really that quiet?  
England was the first to react, "Bloody hell, America! You're late by..." He glanced at his watch. "Twenty minutes, you wanker!"  
America shrugged, plopped into his chair, having that trademark grin on his face. He whipped out a soda, and slurped it loudly.  
Every single nation stared at America for a brief moment before going back to whatever they were doing before.  
The meeting was going swimmingly- as in no one had been badly injured, or murdered.  
America was just taking another loud sip of his soda when a hot pain seared throughout his body. The soda dropped to the ground, and gushed out onto a growing puddle of Coke. He got up, shaking, and walked unsteadily to the window. "No... No! NOOOOOOOO!"  
The North Tower was crashing down, and burning. Burning so badly. So badly.  
America let out a howl of pain, and his tears spilled. Canada's violet eyes had widened, and began to tear up. He didn't want his brother to be in pain. France gaped, and his eyes pooled with tears as well. America's former caretaker, England, was already in tears. Yes, America may have leaven him broken-hearted for a century but despite that, he still cared for him.  
Japan gasped, "A-America-San..."  
And all of the rest of America's friends? The same- all beginning to tear up.  
Even Russia was a little, teeny bit sad. Even he wouldn't inflict this sort of pain on another soul.  
Everyone was pretty darn sad, America was so young- he didn't deserve for this to happen to him at such a young age. They had all experienced things similar to this, even worse in some cases, but America was just too young.  
America howled again in pain as the South Tower blew up. He collapsed, falling to the floor, sobs wracking through his body. Tears spilled like a steady, rushing waterfall. "No... South... North..."  
He ran outside, and watched the smoke rise from the Twin Towers. They slowly fell, and America wouldn't move. It was his fault after all, right?! Right. The Twin Towers collapsed onto America. 'I couldn't protect the Twin Towers...'  
He lied limply, like a rag doll under the wreckage and ruin of the Twin Towers.  
And his last thought?  
'I deserve this.'


	3. The Leaning Tower Of Pizza Pt 1

Italy stared up at the leaning tower of pizza. He smiled happily, eyes closed as always, his hair curl sticking out wildly. He was proud of his pizza tower. So when America sniffed the air, Italy decided it'd be best for him to hide the pizza tower. He hid it behind his back, although it was obvious it was there.  
America soon came over, trademark grin plastered on his face cheerily. "Italyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"  
"Ve~?"  
America only lunged for the pizza tower. Italy shook his head, eyes remaining closed. DUH.  
He kept reaching for the tower of pizza, and Italy wondered if he could hold up on his own. Lovino, his brother, was busy in some weird meeting. But anyways.  
Long last, America grabbed the tower of pizza and nibbled on it before chewing down.  
It was literally a tower of pizza. A pile of cheesy pizza.  
Well, it's gone now.  
If you were hoping to talk with the pizza, look in America's stomach.


	4. The Leaning Tower Of Pizza Pt 2

America looked at Italy, grinning, "Dude, like, I just ate your pizza!"  
Italy nodded, "Ve~!" He didn't really care. He'd get some more from Lovino, his brother.  
"Wait, dude, isn't there an actual tower of Pizza?"  
"Ve~!"  
"Awesome! Well, the hero's gonna check it out, see ya later!"  
Italy blankly stared at him as America left, smiling endlessly.

America grinned up at the actual Tower Of Pizza. It was tall, with white pillars or something. He edged closer and...  
He...  
Did he really just...?  
Bite the tower...?  
Yeah.  
He did.


	5. The Revolutionary War

A younger brother stared at his elder brother coldly across the battlefield, just as he lunged for him, bayonet in hand. The younger brother's eyes widened in shock, but managed to swiftly block the attack with his own bayonet. His bayonet was flung across the crimson, gory battlefield. The elder brother loaded his bayonet.  
"Go on... tell me this is all a joke... And I will take you home." the elder brother said, and when the younger brother didn't reply and his cold demeanor didn't change, he threw the bayonet across the anastrophe in a quick, rapid motion.  
The elder brother fell on the crimson, blood-stained ground, tears streaming out like a waterfall. It just hurt too much. His heart felt twisted in agony, and he just wished time could go back to the way it was. When his younger brother was small and cute and not distant and cold.  
"I don't want to be your younger brother anymore," he snapped fiercely.  
"Never," the elder brother wheezed. He wanted him to come back. Not this man but the child he had known. But it seemed too late. He was gone.  
"I have soldiers that could slaughter you in a second," he said, gesturing towards the army behind him. "Do it. Declare me independent."  
And as much as he wanted to continue fighting for his younger brother to return, it was clear it was too late. And he gave up. "I declare you indepent," he weakly whispered.  
"Louder, for the whole world to hear."  
"I declare you independent," the elder brother managed to announce in an audible volume.  
And so he lost. He had lost many things that day. His army, his reputation, the Revolutionary War, but that didn't matter to him.  
He had lost something much more important to him.  
Some thing that would give him a century or so of being heartbroken over the loss.  
The loss of his brother.


	6. Gone- Prussia

Prussia could feel it. So many things. But they kept slipping away. His vision was blurring and fading. He had been in enough trouble already. The Empire of Germany forming, in 1871. And then the defeat of Germany in World War I, 198-something-or-other.  
He couldn't even remember the date that had caused his brother so much anguish.  
How pathetic, he thought dully, as all the colors vanished. Black and grey were the only colors that still existed. It was slowly dwindling down, and everything began blackening.  
His ears rang loudly. And then Hitler came. He could even remember the words that man had sharply demanded. "'I want a centralized state, and that Prune-thing only supports the anti-federalist policy and so on,'" Prussia repeated numbly, voice lifeless, and eyes glazed over.  
And now, he couldn't see anything but a deep, black, void. He couldn't feel anything, except for one thing. The pain, the anguish, of disappearing. Would he be forgotten?  
At that moment, he couldn't even drag himself to care. And he could hear the cold words the Allies had said- even though he was on the other side of the world. "The state of Prussia , from which its earlier days has been a bearer of militarism and reaction in Germany, has de facto ceased to exist."  
And his physical body had left, and the mind had long ceased to exist.  
Just like the rest of Prussia.  
He was gone.  
Gone.


	7. Japan

A/N- THIS MAY NOT BE HISTORICALLY CORRECT, I MADE THIS ON A WHIM,  
P.S.  
Courier New: China  
(SUPPOSED TO BE)Arvo: Japan  
Century Gothic: Both

"Please, don't leave," China rasped weakly as a young boy, with once-shining eyes had looked up to him so greatly, stared coldly at him.  
"No," he said, no emotion in his voice, and he turned his back to him, slowly walking out. He was sick and tired of being just 'China's younger brother'. No. He was breaking free. He would break out of this cage. He wouldn't be a trapped bird, only to be seen as a prize and a possession. He was escaping from this nightmare. He was fed up and annoyed. He wasn't just 'China's younger brother'. He'd be more than that.  
China didn't want him to leave. He wouldn't go, right? This was all a joke. Yes. Just a joke. That was all. Just a cruel, sick, twisted, messed-up joke. It was better than losing him, right? Yeah. It was.  
He'd have his own country, and run it himself. It'd be called... Something that had no letters that were in China.  
"Promise me," China wheezed, as if he could his thoughts, "You'll have at least one letter of my country's name in yours. Please. M-Make it 'a'." A for adventure.  
"I- I'll consider it," he said, and as much as he hated to admit it, there would be a time in the future when he'd need something from China and he wanted him to owe him something. "As I'll be going you a favor."  
China's eyes drooped as he realized the intentions, "T-Thank you," he mumbled, mustering all his might to stay composed in front of him.  
He regarded him with cold look, before slowly leaving the room. He paused, "This is the end. And I'll be known as-"  
"Save it. We are nothing. I'll know when everyone else knows," China said in a short, clipped reply.  
He dashed out quickly.  
And once China could tell he was out of the distance, he couldn't hold back the tears. He sobbed, for his lost brother, for his anguish, for everything. He just couldn't hold them back. And they kept spilling, no matter how much he tried to stop the pain, it just flowed out of him, everything he had bottled up all those years. And he stated one word. A word that caused him such pain.  
Once he was sure that he had left him behind, he let a solitary tear slip, and left an echo of a whisper behind.  
 _"Japan."_


	8. Special Chapter Reader Insert 1

It was just a regular, boring meeting.  
As in...  
America was loudly speaking over everyone, talking about how a hamburger UFO should be made, England and France were arguing, Canada was hiding under the table, seeing as his spot was taken by Russia who was creepily smiling as always, China screaming 'Aiyah!' at Spain as he flipped a table because he was looking for Romano, who was hiding behind Italy, who was eating pasta, and offering it to Germany who face-palmed, as Denmark and Austria argued who had the awesomer weapon, the ax-wielding Denmark or the boomerang-lifting Austria, which provoked Prussia into yelling about how awesomest he was, while Poland flipped his hair sassily, while Sealand glared at England, seated on Lithuania's head who didn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't a yellow chair decorated in green and Belarus gazed at Russia stalkery.  
Yup.  
Normal.  
Until...  
You, Reader-chan popped up.  
You blinked, as you saw the Hetalia characters. You slowly looked down at your hands, which looked anime-y.  
Screaming at the top of your lungs, you summoned the author. The author blinked as well, because now you've caused a global trend, and waved awkwardly, "Hi..."  
"HOW AM I HERE?!" You shrieked.  
"I dunno, you best enjoy it as you can."  
"Oh, alright. Toodles!"  
And with one last wave, the author poofed away.  
You faced the countries, "Hello there, hot stuff."  
They blinked twice.  
And again.  
Third time's the charm?  
"So, poppet, who _are_ you?"  
"I AM AWESOME (Y/N)! BOW!"  
Everyone bowed, even America and Denmark and Prussia, who were whispering to each other.  
"So," America loudly whispered, for whispering was _not_ his thang, "should we?"  
Denmark and Prussia, who were _also_ not whisperers, replied as quiet as they could, which wasn't very quiet, "Yeah."  
The three sauntered over to you, and Prussia coughed for attention, as it was a really fake cough, "Miss (Y/N), would you like to join the Awesome Trio?"  
"Wouldn't that make it a quartette?" you questioned, snickering.  
The three huddled in a corner, and after a brief moment, they emerged, and Denmark announced, "We need your brains."  
"You see, I'm the Leader," Prussia explained, smug that he could actually explain something which was a huge feat for him, "because I created this group."  
"I'm the Kid, I get myself out of trouble!" The two gave him looks, so America added, "I bring the snacks~!"  
"And I'm the- wAIt WhO aM I?"  
"The Ex-Viking. No one messes with them."  
"Oh yeah."  
"And me," you smirked, putting on a dashing smile, "the Brain."  
And the four ran out like maniacs.  
And _that_ is how you joined The Awesome Trio.  
Well, technically, The Awesome Quartette.


	9. Special Chapter Reader Insert 2

"Sooooooooooooooooooooooo," you trailed off, tearing your eyes away from the burnt scones to look at a very desperate England. You began choking on some smoldering smoke that was drifting into the air from the charcoal lumps that were looking like the ugliest food ever. If food even had beauty, it'd be worse than _vegetables_. And that's saying a lot, especially since you despised those hideous _things_.  
England nodded eagerly, his thick, bushy eyebrows drawn close to his emerald eyes that looked at you with such sheer desperation that you were abut to give in.  
But luckily for you, The Awesome Quarter was watching out for you. You and the boys had decided to shorten it from Quartette to Quarter, because, to be honest, Quartette sounds like a word a pimpy, uptight scholar or something would speak. America slid in, and threw a scone out of the window, which shattered it, since the window wasn't open. America gulped as England fiercely glared at him. And then split.  
"Kesesesese," a familiar voice cackled.  
You whipped around to see Prussia and Denmark, "Prussia! Denmark!" you exclaimed. "How can I ever repay you for this?" you asked curiously.  
Prussia rubbed his chin with his right hand, and Denmark whispered something to him that sounded like, "That looks a little-"  
Prussia hissed, "What?"  
"AWESOME!" He erupted, cheering and whooping, and the two were racing around England's house.  
You could hear the distant sound of America running, and it was growing less faint and distant by the second. "Guys," you said nervously, "America is gonna be back any second, and with an angry England hot on his tail."  
"ENGLAND HAS A TAIL?!" Prussia and Denmark simultaneously whined. "I want a tail," Prussia pouted.  
"Well I do too!"  
You face-palmed, sighing as all three of you raced away, just as England arrived at his house to see it trashed, even some vases overturned, and flowers flooding the floor with water that soaked his socks and shoes and feet. "AMERICAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! DENMARKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK! PRUSSIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! (Y/NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN)!" He huffed, sitting down on top of the table, which was as dry as it would get, and poked a drenched, soaking scone that was midnight-black. "Nice hue, huh?"  
America managed to catch up to you three, and puffed, out of breath, "H-Hey," he wheezed.  
The Awesome Quarter laughed as they ran into the radiant sun, as they began singing 'Sexy And I Know It'.  
What?  
If you couldn't do _that_ , then what _could_ you do?


	10. Special Chapter Reader Insert 3

A/N- This has 1361 words, and 38 indents. Yup, I worked hard. Enjoy~! This took me like, 4 hours, so you BETTER enjoy it.  
Warning- Has depression in it, and will probably make you cry  
You shifted on your seat, as the school bus was really bumpy, and you were almost thrown off your seat.  
"Last day of school!" Brianna screamed, from across the bus.  
"Yasssss, like YESSSSS!" Someone else shrieked, who was a few seats away. Everyone whooped, yay-ing.  
A few were crying, maybe they were moved to another floor, or they weren't in the same class as their friends or best friends, or they were in the same class as their ex-boyfriend or someone who they hated, or worse, all of the above.  
Luckily, you were in the majority, and you had gotten into a class with some, if not most, of your friends. Carolina and Irene were also in your class- and you called yourselves The Truffle Trio. Irene had decided on the name, although it made no sense to neither you or Carolina but you had decided to just humor her. Carolina was as shy as a dormouse and Irene hit like a buffalo but you were as awesome as a cat. You held the whole Trio together, and you were also the loudest. Carolina and Irene were called The Silent Sisters because they were so quiet that hardly anyone ever noticed they were there. They somehow managed to be seated by each other, even throughout the year when the teacher had moved everyone's seats several times. They were going to Japan or something.  
As you could tell, you rambled a lot. But you couldn't help it- you were talkative.  
You wanted to scream of joy- Finally! You could spend _every_ **single** ** _day_** with all the countries! You could play video games with America, and teach England how to not to burn down the house, and do Lego with Sealand, and eating pasta with Italy, and making Germany peel potatoes, and-!

You stared at America, "What do you mean, you can't?!" You cried out.  
England was busy, in some cooking camp, and Germany was too busy training Italy and Sealand was doing some stupid tutorial with Lego! And they all told you they couldn't hang with you!  
America still had his trademark grin, sculpted of steel, and explained, "Sorry. But Tony is taking me on a tour of the Galaxy."  
You stalked away. Even Prussia and Denmark were doing something else. And you were all alone for the whole entire summer. Great.  
Actually, that was sarcasm.  
It is _not_ great that you were going to be by yourself _all_ summer.  
Your school friends were on vacation, and so you were _really_ alone now. Solitude for the rest of the summer.  
You groaned, and sighed, but nothing changed the fact that you were going to have only yourself for company.

You swallowed a huge gulp of Gatorade's Thirst Quencher, which was ginormous. So far, two weeks had passed and you were still by yourself. Currently, you were crouched on your couch, huddling the Gatorade close to you, as you watched Teen Beach 2. You gasped, "NO MACKKKKKK, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" You screamed like a maniac. "HOW COULD YOU?!" You shrieked in a ludicrous manner. And you delved, dissolving into hysterics, changing from hypocritical laughter to delirious tears. "BRADY WAS ALL YOU EVER WANTED BUT NOOOOOOOOO!"  
Wow.  
You really need the countries, don't you?  
The author was coming over, to inspect if her reader was okay- Because without a _read_ er, who would _read_ the book.The story would be _utterly_ useless, without a meaning, and _worse_ of all, it'd be _forgotten_. The author shuddered at that awful word. She knocked on the door, and when you didn't answer, she just went in. What? She wouldn't just keep waiting outside, if she had, it'd have been _hours_. And the author was _not_ very tolerant of having to wait.  
You were also in one of your crying sessions because Teen Beach 2 ripped your feels apart. When the author saw you like that, she decided not to interfere with the story and just go with the flow.  
She tiptoed out, just before you looked up, and continued your berserk giggles.  
The author stood with her back against the side of the door, the one on the outside, and gave a relieved sigh. "I ain't goin' anywhere near here anytime soon," she said.  
She liked to pretend she was from Texas, even though she was from New York, and was a solid city girl.

You know how all the countries were busy?  
Well...

.

They're not.  
They were just planning the **Ultimate Surprise Birthday Partay** ( **USBP** , for short). Your birthday was in the second-to-last week before school. They had about about a month to prepare. Everything would be perfect- The countries didn't want anything else but the best for you, they really did love you like family.  
If only they knew that not being there was tearing and unraveling you apart.

A week before your surprise birthday party.  
You were covered under a grimy blanket, and you hadn't bothered to shower since forever. You sang everyday, 'On My Own', in hope that'd it would affect you but it never did. It only caused you more pain. Anytime you sang it, your voice was raw with unadulterated agony, and it made you cry every time.  
But you couldn't stop it, the waterfall that came.  
Sometimes, you just cried for no reason. You were always alone, as your parents had taken to a vacation on the other side of the world and hadn't bothered to bring you.  
You had spent a couple hundred on you Gatorades- you were addicted. To that song, 'On My Own', to Gatorade, to that filthy blanket, to crying. And Teen Beach 2, you were obsessed with. You'd watched it thousand of times. Every day, you watched it 5 or so times. Keep in mind, it was 1 hour and 45 minutes long. You even memorized the Teen Beach 2's commercials.  
You cried yourself to sleep every night.

One day, when the author took away your TV for a day, you stumbled upon a depression test. You had found yourself clicking 'yes' to every question vaguely, but you were replaying Teen Beach 2 over and over in your mind, as it was etched in you forever. Finally, the test ended, and it showed a string of words that said, 'You scored 20 out of 20 for Depression'. You stared at it, numb, and uncaring. You slowly walked to your couch, after exiting the page, and laying on the couch, unfeeling.  
You still had your mad fits, but they were worse. But the rest of the time, you spent it torpidly, and in solitude.  
Depressed solitude.

You had received an envelope telling you that the countries were having a pool party. But you were sad and angry, how could they desert you, and discard you like trash, and just when they wanted to, pick you up- just to throw you away later.  
You weren't going.  
It was the day after your birthday.  
It was the last day of your life.

Later that day, you were heading to the store across the street, for more Gatorade, when a car began zooming towards you. You saw it a few seconds before it crashed into you, but you had made no action to move, and the first smile of the summer came. Just as it rammed into you. You went flying, and your head bashed against the cement several times. A smile was still engraved on your bleeding face, and your eyes were wide open. Dead.

The countries found out when they were invited to your funeral. They heard about it from the author, and blamed themselves for it. But of course, as they were on the verge of depression themselves, the author grudgingly wiped the memory of you away from _everybody_ and _anybody_ who knew of you. Any evidence of your whole existence was gone. And everyone forgot you, even the author, as you became a figure from the past that wasn't honored or remembered in any way.

Even now, you were still alone.

The end.


	11. Cold Piano Keys

A/N- THIS IS FOR RUSSIA- WHO'S HUMAN NAME IS Ivan Braginsky.  
Ivan Braginsky pressed his finger on the cold piano key, and could only scowl as no sound emitted from the piano key. Someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He jerked it off, and then looked to see who it was. His mother stared at him with a hurt expression. Ivan wished he had looked first, and frowned.  
 _Dinner's ready_ , Ivan's mother said in sign language, in a mellow manner. His mother was also deaf. Ivan nodded, looking down, pushing on some piano notes, and seeing that it didn't match together when his mother winced slightly.  
She left out of the room sweepingly, leaving him to push the notes randomly. Angrily, he stabbed the keys, wishing he could hear- even if he only heard banging notes.  
The ebony keys wouldn't respond, and h couldn't take it. They silently taunted him, and he couldn't take it anymore.  
The cold piano keys wouldn't be cold- he'd smash them, break them, make them suffer like they did to him.  
It was only a matter of time before he had broken.  
He had lost his hearing when he was younger, and he couldn't even remember what sound the piano made.  
Ivan balled his fists in a tight clench, and crashed them against the piano. His hands began leaking crimson blood but he wouldn't stop. Till it was destroyed.  
He smashed his whole body frame into it. Over and over. He would do anything to kill it.  
His bones broke and his skin wore, his face pallor, and eyes lost to hatred, glazed over. His head bled scarlet, and there was a colossal fracture in his skull, causing the blood to flow everywhere, a pool of crimson glistening on the floor.  
Ivan Braginsky was dead, ceased to exist.  
All because of the cold piano keys.


	12. The Blizzard of Russia

He had silvery-blonde hair with piercing violet eyes. A childish, impish smile often took residence on his face no matter what. At least, that's what the other nations thought.  
But today, with no countries there to judge, to think he wasn't strong, he let the smile fall and nothing came to take its place.  
Ivan was trudging through a field in Russia.  
No colors decorated the ground, and nothing varnished the sky. All white. An eternal winter, as it seems.  
A field of never-ending snow. It stretched out longer and longer, several hundreds of miles.  
He was walking.  
A layer of snowflakes tangled into his hair, face red, feet blistered, the heavy boots that had begun to tatter, the callused hands.  
Staggering on the thick sleet of ice and snow, he tripped multiple times.  
There was nowhere else to go, nowhere else to see, nothing but to walk.  
Walk through the blizzard of Russia.


	13. The Unknown

_Cold.  
Cold and alone, shivering in the darkness with a fright.  
Loud booms of oddly pitched groans held out, sounding nothing like a human's.  
The unknown- nothing quite like it.  
It could not be explained why it sent chills down his back or why he was afraid of the night.  
Why did it scare him?  
The images of sheer black.  
Why... How come he always saw a hidden shadow that no one else saw, blended into the background, so it was impossible to see it unless...  
Unless you were looking for it.  
And he was.  
So there it was, that slight darkening of black in a sea of darkness.  
He stepped closer and closer, the subtle blackening getting darker and darker.  
"Oh, just my shadow," he nervously said, knowing it was something else, but hoping saying it would make it true.  
Something was wrong, out of place.  
Why was everything dark?  
He was in the city- New York City, which made it even more frightening- and yet...  
There was no light anywhere.  
And that was what scared him the most. _

He woke, sweat suffocating him in an uncomfortable blanket of scorching heat. He ripped his blankets off, only to find...  
There was nothing there, nothing out of the ordinary.  
Just his legs, nothing unusual.  
But why did he have the feeling something was wrong...  
"Ohhhhhhh, I forgot to feed Ameriwhale!"


End file.
